


Corruption

by katesmeow



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: AU, Betrayal, Blood and Violence, F/M, Familial Love, Gen, Identity Reveal, Imprisonment, Miraculous Lore - Extrapolation, Power Balancing, Romantic love, Self-Blame, Self-Worth Issues, four years later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-07-28 19:44:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16248551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katesmeow/pseuds/katesmeow
Summary: Ladybug has Lucky Charm, and can use her weapon to purify. Chat Noir has Cataclysm... and can use his weapon to corrupt. But what use is such a power in the triumph of good over evil?Warning: WIP. Enter at your own risk. :3





	1. Revelations

_Wherein one story ends, and another begins._

Chat Noir’s lips curled back in a snarl as the tip of their enemy’s blade swiped his Lady’s cheek, bringing forth a thin red ribbon of blood. He was late to the battle, too late to take the hit for her. As she rolled away from her assailant he charged in, bounding up the side of an apartment building before kicking off, staff engaged and spinning above his head. And as Hawk Moth turned, too slow, to confront the oncoming assault, the Cat’s weapon came crashing against the side of his head, sending him careening into the front of a nearby car.

Glass fractured at the impact but held together, supporting the weight of Hawk Moth’s body as it slumped lifelessly atop the hood. Chat Noir heard Ladybug’s distant gasp and his own heart froze as he slid to a crouch, eyes fixing upon their adversary’s motionless form. They held their positions, stock-still, for one moment — two — three — until finally, spying the almost imperceptible rise of Hawk Moth’s chest as he drew breath, they sighed together in relief.

Ladybug approached cautiously, Chat Noir close on her heels, weapons at the ready should their enemy’s stillness be some kind of ploy to catch them off guard. A swift motion and Ladybug had her yo-yo wrapped around his sword, yanking it away with a clatter. But Hawk Moth remained unresponsive, a blossoming of redness at his temple where Chat Noir’s staff had connected, and it quickly became clear he was down for the count.

“I can’t believe… i-it happened so fast,” Ladybug murmured, her hand shaking as it hovered over the head wound. “I had just defeated the akuma, and then…” Her eyes went to the object in her grasp, a red hand mirror with black spots, and in a daze she moved as if to throw it.

Chat Noir caught her wrist, and she jerked, startled from her reverie. “The Miraculous.” He dropped her hand and jumped nimbly to the hood of the car, positioning himself to hold down Hawk Moth if necessary while they secured him and the treasure he had wielded against them for so long, so unsuccessfully.

Four years, it had been. It felt like longer, certainly long enough, but Chat Noir almost didn’t know what to do with the knowledge that the war was so unexpectedly over. Not ten minutes ago he was waving goodbye to Nathalie and his father, on his way to study with Nino. Now he knelt over the crippled form of his defeated nemesis.

Despite the gruesome sight of blood beginning to seep down and drip upon the villain’s lapels, an almost overwhelming feeling of satisfaction and relief flooded Chat Noir’s body as reality fully sunk in. He couldn’t help the inappropriate grin that crept onto his face. His hand was steady as he reached out to grasp the brooch under Hawk Moth’s collar, but he hesitated, glancing at Ladybug as if seeking permission. Meeting her eyes and seeing her nod, he gripped the jewel at its centre and pulled it away.

He wasn’t prepared for what lay underneath the mask.

 ~~: **:**~~ { } ~~ **:** : ~~

“Chat Noir? … Chaton!” Ladybug’s voice sounded distant, barely piercing the Black Cat’s distracted thoughts as he gazed, paralyzed, at the man unmasked beneath him.

_Father?_

It couldn’t be.

No. _No._

He was only peripherally aware that he had reared back upon his haunches in shock when Hawk Moth’s transformation fell, revealing a face he knew too well, a man he knew so little. He felt barely attached to his body, like his head was stuffed full of cotton. His eyes and mouth were dry, and there was a vague ringing in his ears. What was happening? _This can’t be real._

Ladybug’s hand alighted tentatively upon his shoulder and he jerked back, turning to gape at her and releasing the Moth Miraculous as his hands fell open. The winged jewel dropped to the hood of the car with a clatter, and she hastily scooped it up before it could slide away.

_This is a dream._

“Miraculous Ladybug!”

Stupefied, Chat Noir followed the shining red and black blur as it whisked about, reversing the damage from the fight with the akuma, healing the cut on his Lady’s face and the wound dark and slick with blood… at Gabriel Agreste’s temple. The wound that he, Adrien, had inflicted.

The sickening crack from that decisive blow echoed in Chat Noir’s mind, and his eyes rolled up to the darkening sky as everything went black.

 ~~: **:**~~ { } ~~ **:** : ~~

Antiseptic. Damp plaster and dust. A faint trace of ammonia. The unfamiliar smells were the first to coax Chat Noir into a vague sort of consciousness, followed by the mild pain of scabs tearing as he opened his mouth to cough, by the metallic tang of fresh blood. He grew suddenly still and tense as he realized he had no idea where he was, and his eyes flew open to the greenish dark.

“It’s alright, Chaton.” His Lady’s voice came from somewhere behind him, low and quiet. “We’re safe. I didn’t know where else to bring you without compromising our identities. Don’t turn around though,” she added quickly, as he moved to pull himself upright. “Tikki is still recharging.”

“We’re…” he began, thoughts muddled as he tried to reorient himself. He glanced down at his gloved hands and clawed fingertips, at the ring glowing dully through his enhanced vision. Aside from a quiet ache in his mouth and jaw, he felt completely fine. “Where are we?”

“Abandoned metro station,” Ladybug answered, a note of concern in her voice. “You passed out after we defeated Hawk Moth.” She paused. “I’m sorry. I could tell you were shocked too, but I didn’t expect you to fall over like that. You split your lip on the pavement.”

He’d passed out? “Hawk Moth, is he—”

The words died on his tongue. Hawk Moth. Father.

“Alive,” Ladybug assured him, blessedly mistaking the reason for his hesitation. He heard some shuffling of paper and the slosh of liquid in a bottle, and from the corner of his eye spotted her fumbling with what looked like a first aid kit. “I secured him and waited long enough for the police to arrive. There wasn’t time to fill them in fully but they know who he is now and were taking him into custody when we left.”

“And the Miraculous?” She must have treated his wound. He licked his lips absently, tasting the antiseptic. _Father. Father is Hawk Moth_.

“Safe. I’ll take it to Master Fu when we get out of here.”

He nodded. Of course, she wouldn’t be able to see him doing so. “Good. That’s… good,” he managed to grind out, eyes flicking uselessly around the room. Ladybug didn’t know he was Adrien; she might get suspicious if he continued to betray his shock or showed the grief that was already beginning to roil in his chest. He needed to get out of there. _And go where, exactly?_ he wondered, panic beginning to set in. Would home be safe? _Does Nathalie know? Was she… in on it?_

“Spots on,” Ladybug said in a near-whisper, and Chat Noir flinched as a blinding pink light briefly overtook the room. He heard her slip to the floor behind him, felt that tentative flutter of her hand against his shoulder once again. “Are you ready? Or… I can go alone, if you prefer. I know you’re not too fond of Master Fu.”

Yes, that was his normal. He seized upon it and took her hand, flashing his best Chat Noir smile. “Fu has never seemed particularly keen on including me in this stuff before, right? He’s probably got some ancient Guardian wisdom to bestow now that we’ve got Nooroo back. You go on ahead, milady,” he finished, planting a kiss on her knuckles. She stared at him in surprise, not even drawing away as she usually did. Wait, was it weird to refuse this time? Damn it, he couldn’t think straight. “If you don’t mind,” he added hastily.

He could see her face clearly, looking thoughtfully toward his voice in the darkness and betraying a faint puzzlement despite the mask. She shook herself slightly and withdrew her hand, reaching for her yo-yo. “No… no, that’s fine. Get some rest, Chat Noir. Let’s meet tomorrow at the Tower, OK? I’ll fill you in on what Master Fu says.”

 ~~: **:**~~ { } ~~ **:** : ~~

Knocking. Ugh, incessant knocking. Nino rolled over and peered blearily at his phone, wondering magnanimously if he should spare the life of whatever punk was at his bedroom door at 2 in the morning. He shouted something unintelligible and threw a pillow in that general direction but, after a brief pause, the would-be intruder persisted. This time, the rough sound of claws scraping against glass preceded the knocking.

They didn’t have a cat. Nino pushed himself up from the bed, a little more awake now, and listened again. The insistent sounds weren’t coming from the door. Ignoring the horror-movie scenarios kindly supplied by his brain, he leaned over cautiously to switch on the lamp that sat on the bedside table underneath the window.

A face was illuminated behind the glass, and Nino almost pissed himself.

“Chat Noir?!” Fuck, he’d screeched like a little girl. The Cat pulled a clawed finger to his lips and grinned, gesturing for Nino to flip the latch. Nino just stared at him with narrowed eyes. “And how do I know you’re not just here to murder me?” he demanded quietly through the glass.

Chat Noir rolled his eyes and shrugged.

Sighing, Nino undid the latch as requested, and slid the table out of the way. He flopped back to his bed and watched as Chat Noir slid deftly through the open window and turned to latch it behind him. Nino frowned. Locked in with Death himself, huh? “To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked, rubbing his face vigorously and blinking the sleep from his eyes.

The man in black peered out the window for a moment before turning toward him again, and Nino was taken aback by his face. Whereas a moment ago it had manifested his typical cocky demeanor, for one second his eyes held an intense darkness that sent chills down Nino’s spine. But in a flash the look was gone, replaced by a sheepish smile.

“Sorry for bothering you like this. A… mutual friend suggested you might be willing to let me crash here for the night,” the hero ventured. His eyes flicked to the window again for the barest moment before returning to Nino with an unconvincing grin. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

Why did Chat Noir seem so… shifty? The thought left Nino feeling a little queasy. Paris had two things between them and the evil plans of some raving lunatic, and here was one of them, obviously distracted and hiding something. It didn’t exactly put him at ease.

“No problem bro,” he replied anyway. What else could he say? “ _Mi casa es su casa_ or whatever. I’ll even give you the top bunk.” He eyed the superhero’s costume for a moment. “Can you… sleep like that, though?”

Chat Noir crossed his arms and seemed to consider for a moment, like he didn’t even know. _Dude._ “I don’t foresee any problems,” he finally decided, adding with a smirk, “No peeking, though. My fairy godmother will tell me all about it if he catches you.”

Nino sighed. He didn’t even want to know. “Whatever. But for the love of little green apples, bro, do _not_ flirt with me. I barely know you.”

Chat Noir just grinned again and leapt gracefully to the top bunk. “Thanks, man. I owe you one.” He paused for a moment, arranging the pillow before settling back with a sigh. “Nighty-night then… Sleep well. _I’ll most likely kill you in the morning._ ” The old _Princess Bride_ reference didn’t escape Nino, but neither did the Cat’s strange little laugh. He shivered involuntarily.

“Ok, dude.” Silence. Nino switched off the light and dropped back onto his pillow, staring at the underside of the top bunk. The masked hero may have stood as a pillar of safety for years now, but damn if he didn’t come across as slightly unhinged. Like hell there’d be any sleeping now.

The grandfather clock down the hall slowly ticked away the seconds, chimed the quarter hour after awhile. A couple cars honked disagreeably in the street below.

“Do me a solid?” The Cat’s voice was distant, quiet.  
  
“Another one?”

“Don’t tell anyone I was here. Especially your girlfriend.”

 ~~: **:**~~ { } ~~ **:** : ~~

The Black Cat peered down at Nino’s peaceful face. For all the unsettling smell of fear that had rolled off of his friend, and despite the uncertainty that had dwelt in his eyes the night before, the guy still managed to sleep like the dead once the hour finally pulled him under. Of course, the resting departed didn’t stutter and snort like _that_ all night long.

Straightening quietly, Chat Noir sighed and touched the side of his head delicately, wincing as he felt the warm swell of a small goose egg forming, pulling his hand away to examine his gloved fingers in the dark. No blood, anyway. His transformation allowed him to slink around with ease, but he had never attempted to sleep in the suit, and being sneaky didn’t really help when you were falling out of bed and cracking your head on the nightstand.

Rolling his eyes at himself, he pulled out his baton and flicked it open, canceling the silent alarm he had set to vibrate before daybreak — something he hadn’t known was a feature of his multipurpose gadget until he’d gone searching for it a few hours before. That’s how it always was with the thing: phone, browser, blueprints, Bluetooth earpiece for frak’s sake... within reason, if he needed it, there it suddenly was. Plagg had very helpfully explained that he required more Camembert than Adrien had to offer if he was going to bother explaining ancient magical technology in detail, and at the thought of such copious amounts of stinky cheese, Adrien had been inclined to press no further.

He found himself idly wishing that the weapon had a function for turning supervillain fathers back to normal, like Ladybug’s purification. Whacks to the head couldn’t change that heartbreaking reality, though. Unless the Moth Miraculous had been cursed somehow, his father, now former tormentor of Paris, was still an undeniable sociopath. A man who had victimized _children_ …

His chest clenched, hysteria rising as his thoughts took that woeful turn again, and he gripped the baton tightly, closing his eyes while he took a steadying breath. He could dwell on the whys and hows of his father’s betrayal later. He had managed to concoct what felt like a somewhat pragmatic plan last night before succumbing to exhaustion, and there wasn’t much time to be getting on with it.

He couldn’t feel safe at home, not without knowing how entangled Nathalie and the other staff had been, or were still, in his fa— in _Hawk Moth’s_ schemes. Assuming they had been involved at all, of course. But he couldn’t just disappear forever, either, not if he wanted to take another shot at living a semi-normal life as Adrien Agreste. Even if he did steal away, live on the run as Chat Noir until he could figure out how to falsify some new identity, how could he do that to his friends?

How could he stand losing anyone else?

… So. He was going to beat feet before Nino had a chance to wake and ask unwanted questions, go to school in yesterday’s clothes, and feign ignorance. After his friends and Nathalie witnessed his horrified “reaction” to the news of his father’s treachery, after the police questioned him, after he’d figured out a place to crash while the home situation was being sorted out — then he’d begin his own investigation.

Of course, Nathalie was first on his short list of people to… interrogate. He swallowed against the sickening feeling that accompanied that thought. He had an idea of the tactic he’d use, but he didn’t love it. He just didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t get Ladybug involved, of course. He _needed_ information, and he knew how skilled Nathalie was at deflection, at keeping that chill composure. If she had something to hide then his sweet, kind-hearted Lady would never be able to crack that unyielding mask. But she wouldn’t approve of the method he had in mind, either.

Not that he would do anything he’d later regret. He knew where to draw the line. He’d intimidate if he had to, make threats if they were warranted, but he wouldn’t victimize anybody.

_I’m not like him._

He perched on the edge of Nino’s sill on all fours, leaning out to assess the situation in the street. It wasn’t yet rush hour so there were still very few cars puttering about, but early risers were beginning to start their day, lights on in a nearby café, the smell of fresh bread and pastry drifting up on a light breeze. He glanced back, blinking once in surprise at his bleary-eyed friend who regarded him from the bunk as if beholding the remnants of a strange dream. With a broad grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes and a two-fingered salute, Chat Noir slipped out into the dark Parisian morning.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will have a somewhat dark overarching theme, but I’ll try not to forget to bring some humor into it… Ok, so I’ll restrain myself from turning it into a complete farce, whatever.  :3
> 
> At the time of writing the last episode to be aired was Queen Wasp. I won’t be diverging too much from established canon if I can help it, but there will be a fair amount of extrapolation, so consider it AU.


	2. Reflections

_Wherein a troubling problem develops._

Gazing sadly at the swollen eyes and ruddy cheeks of the sapling in her charge, Tikki breathed a heavy sigh, one that belied the diminutive size of the form she took for the sake of Creation. Marinette was finally slumbering peacefully after a night of shock and revelation, of relief and sudden grief, and that irksome machine living beside the bed would be ruining it all in just under an hour.

She supposed it couldn’t be helped. Even if she silenced the device and allowed Marinette to rest, the child’s mother would wake her in time for school. Marinette herself would be livid if Tikki did anything to prevent her from being there for her poor friend Adrien, whose father had betrayed them all — had betrayed his very offspring — in such unfathomable ways.

Her poor friend Adrien. Tikki had thought long and hard about revealing to Marinette what she knew regarding the boy, that he was in fact the same Cat that stalked the night alongside them when Paris was in need of protection, but after consulting in private with Master Fu and Wayzz the three of them had agreed it was advisable to wait and see what would come naturally from these new developments. She trusted young Adrien, it was true, and she trusted Plagg as far as one could trust the other half of one’s soul, but such trust didn’t always create trustworthy behavior in the holder of the Black Cat Miraculous. And although Plagg could pussyfoot and dissemble to a degree, he was inevitably bound to the will of his master. If Marinette were told Adrien’s secret and somehow let that knowledge slip, if she shared her own identity with him out of empathy and loyal camaraderie, if blackest despair and familial love were to then drown the Black Cat’s heart in sympathetic darkness — it would surely spell disaster for the entire world.

The cookies were stale, but Tikki reached for one absently and began to whittle it down, eyes on the clock, lost in her musings. Disaster could yet be in the offing, regardless of whether the young ones decided to exchange confidences. Chat Noir was battle-hardened, and a perfect match for Ladybug. If circumstances went south and allies were chosen out of sudden necessity, they would be green and prone to injury.

It would be prudent to prepare.

 ~~: **:**~~ { } ~~ **:** : ~~

“You’re gonna turn your teeth black, girl,” Alya whispered into Marinette’s shoulder, chuckling behind a curtain of auburn hair as she leaned into her friend. Marinette tore her gaze from the back of Adrien’s head, coming back to a reality more innocent and uncomplicated than the one she had been inhabiting in her mind. She had _actually_ chewed through the end of her pencil.

While Mme. Bustier switched to the next slide on Victor Hugo, Alya snickered and scribbled out a question on her notepad. _That foolish feeling back again? ;)_

Marinette stared at the note for a moment, frowning, before jotting down a quick reply. _Not that. I’ll tell you later._

Alya raised a quizzical eyebrow at her but blessedly let it go and returned her attention to their poetry lesson. Marinette closed her eyes briefly against the small feeling of relief at that. Hopefully her friend would forget before “later” rolled around and she was forced to concoct some stupid story. She was so tired of lies.

Her life was lies. Lies for the greater good, but lies nonetheless. Half-truths, misdirection. The knowledge she held now was burning within her, begging to be spoken of, and yet she dreaded its inevitable revelation to the world.

How hadn’t the news broken yet? How hadn’t Alya picked it up and plastered it all over the Ladyblog? If the media didn’t have it, they were sure to have it soon. Their fight with Hawk Moth had been so public, albeit in the dead of night. So why hadn’t the police made an official statement?

Of course, they wouldn’t make a move in that direction until they had attempted to inform Adrien and his family… right? But Adrien didn’t seem to know. He _couldn’t_ know. He was _here._ He was _coherent_ , he was _laughing_ at some humorous thing Mme. Bustier had apparently said. Oh, God. Poor Adrien. _I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Adrien. Why can’t I fix this for you?_

Her silent obsessions were interrupted when the concerned voice of Mssr. Damocles broke over the intercom, summoning Adrien to his office. Marinette’s heart clenched as she watched her blonde friend freeze momentarily and then relax, almost dejectedly, before pulling himself up and excusing himself with a smile. She tried to catch his eyes, maybe to offer some wordless moral support he surely wouldn’t grasp the full significance of anyway, but after a wave to Nino, he kept his gaze fixed on the door and swiftly left the room.

Marinette sank back into her seat quietly and squeezed her eyes shut again. So it was happening today. Of course it would be, but a part of her had held out hope that Adrien would be spared the news just a little while longer.

Alya was scribbling furiously on her notepad again, no doubt clued in to Marinette’s distress and not willing to let it go this time. Wonderful. More lies. She pushed the notebook over and Marinette set about crafting something both believable and low-key. What kind of a person fed their best friend lies and imaginary problems? Ladybug did, apparently.

By tonight, Paris would be buzzing. And in just a few moments, Adrien’s heart would be broken.

She couldn’t help the feeling that it was somehow her fault.

 ~~: **:**~~ { } ~~ **:** : ~~

The guilt that was slowly wrapping around his chest and squeezing the breath from his lungs, sapping the strength from his limbs and making it difficult to drag one foot in front of the other, frankly made zero sense. Adrien was _aware_ of this. He was _aware_ that his father never shared any important details about his personal problems or emotional well-being, even when asked; aware (after some consideration) that his father’s mental health issues may well have been triggered by his mother’s disappearance, and that there was nothing even _Chat Noir_ could do to bring her back; aware that it was his _father,_ not himself, who had terrorized the city of Paris and endangered the lives of countless people, including his “civilian” son.

 _But if you_ really _cared about him, you would have tried harder after Mom disappeared,_ his traitorous mind insisted. _If you had just reached out more to him, you would have realized how much he was suffering. You could have figured something out._

_Now it’s too late. It’s your fault._

So the lump of ice in Adrien’s stomach refused to melt, giving him chills as he sat opposite Mssr. Damocles to be briefed by Sabrina’s dad on his father’s arrest, the arrest he himself was responsible for. At least it helped his performance for Lt. Raincomprix and the principal, both of whom looked exceedingly grieved and uncomfortable as Adrien apparently soaked up this terrible information and had a quiet panic attack. A social worker was ready with hot tea and a comforting hand — though Adrien had turned 18 only a few weeks prior, so thankfully there wouldn’t be any custody issues to sort out — and Adrien nodded lamely as Roger dutifully informed him of his father’s rights during pre-trial detention, of the facility’s location outside of the city where his father would be held, of the requisite visitation permit that would likely take several weeks for Adrien to obtain…

“If you prefer to excuse yourself from school for the day, Adrien, I can arrange for your homework to be collected and delivered to you,” Mssr. Damocles offered. “I understand the shock and confusion you must be feeling. Indeed, we are all of us shaken to the core. You have my most profound sympathies, young man. Please, let me know if I can personally be of any help.”

Adrien smiled at him half-heartedly and nodded. Mssr. Damocles was a good man, even if he was a little pompous. And his alter ego was a hoot, too.

… Gross. Jokes didn’t help. _Maybe if you weren’t so immature things wouldn’t be so fucked up, asshole._ “Thank you, sir. I’ll collect my things.” Adrien paused and turned to Lt. Raincomprix. “Have you heard from my father’s assistant, Nathalie Sancoeur? Or been able to… search the house?"

Roger shifted uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, but the preliminary investigation has been deemed confidential. You are allowed to return home under supervision to collect personal necessities, but until we’ve further established the facts, your home is being considered the primary crime scene. I’m afraid I can’t provide you with details about anything else. Mlle. Dubois here can assist you with temporary housing.” Here the social worker smiled encouragingly and inclined her head.

Adrien sighed but nodded cooperatively. “I understand. Thanks. I’ll let you know if I need any assistance.” He glanced between the other three. “Is that everything?”

“Please call this number when you have settled on accommodations,” Roger said, handing him a card. Mlle. Dubois hurried to supply one as well. “We’ll need to keep tabs on you. You’ll also need an appointment to collect your things. And don’t hesitate to call if you have any questions or concerns about your rights. We’ll try to make this as easy on you as we can, son.”

 ~~: **:**~~ { } ~~ **:** : ~~

“You okay, kid?”

It was a stupid question, really, and Plagg knew it. Tikki was much better at these things than he was. He floated uneasily out of his charge’s pocket, stealing a glance around the locker room to be sure it was void of prying eyes, checking to see if Adrien had maybe had enough presence of mind to procure a bit of cheese — should he say anything about that? Surely there was cheese somewhere in the building? — before turning to get a good look at his partner’s face.

Man, the kid had a lot of hair. His head was slumped down as he rested his face in his hand, and the shaggy mess completely covered his eyes. Also, he wasn’t answering. Plagg took a few moments to consider his approach. He didn’t want to provoke him, not in this state. “Adrien? I promise I won’t say anything about cheese. I just need to know if you’re having a mental breakdown or thinking of doing anything stupid...”

Adrien slowly raised his gaze, leveling it at Plagg in a way that wasn’t at all disconcerting. His mouth was completely covered by his palm. No noises were forthcoming.

“... I mean, like busting your dad out of prison, for example. Just so we’re clear, that would be really, really stupid.” More staring. The kwami’s ears flattened a little, and he averted his eyes. “Honestly, kid, don’t worry about the cheese. It’s not like I’m starving or anything.”

Adrien closed his eyes, drew a deep breath, and let out a slow, unsteady sigh. The hand that wasn’t supporting his face reached into his school bag and withdrew one of those weird little waxed cheese wheels from the cantine. He held it up without a word.

Plagg floated over and retrieved it silently. Adrien resumed staring at the ground and the kwami settled on the bench beside him, tugging resignedly at the cheese’s thick red peel. What idiot ever thought encasing cheese in an impenetrable prison of wax was a good idea? How was it supposed to get all deliciously moldy?

He nibbled at the strangely sterile round, and stole another glance at the tortured kid who just might have the power to destroy half the world in his hands. Humans did a lot of stupid things. And while Adrien was probably the most kind-hearted kitten he’d had in several millennia… sometimes kindness was a real killer.

_We may have a problem, Sugarcube._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tikki is ancient. Tikki is wise.
> 
> … Plagg’s, you know. He’s Plagg.
> 
> I've been fighting a cold so this was a short chapter and a little later than I was originally intending. Also, please forgive any errors regarding French law and criminal procedure. Hopefully it’s believable enough (especially in a universe where Space Dumpsters are a thing, haha).
> 
> Inspiration depending (and assuming I’m not thrown for a complete loop with Heroes Day!), expect another chapter in a week or two. :)


	3. Reckless Behavior

_Wherein lines are crossed._

Nathalie Sancoeur was a prudent person. When she stumbled upon her employer’s secret doings and agreed to keep quiet and assist him, she also accepted the possibility that he would fail. Naturally, safeguards were implemented against her own implication in his unsavory work, and steps were taken to ensure that they were not left with nothing upon which to build anew.

Of course, she knew it would be foolish to assume she had anticipated _everything._ But as she entered her apartment that evening, as she felt the chill in the air and the uneasy sense of foreboding that settled down upon her like a blanket, she wondered if she might have missed something very obvious, indeed.

It was dark, and her hand reached for the switch.

Light flooded the room.

… She was alone.

She breathed a sigh of relief and chuckled quietly at herself as she hung up her keys and removed her jacket. Of course, she was bound to be on edge. But this jumping at shadows nonsense was hardly productive. _I’ll just check the other rooms to be sure. Nothing wrong with being cautious._

A polite knock on the wall next to her interrupted her musings.

“Ms. Sancoeur?”

Nathalie jumped and stared toward the window. Her employer’s cat-eared nemesis was waving at her sheepishly from behind the glass, and gesturing toward the lock.

She closed her eyes briefly. Of course. He was probably here to obtain information. And it wouldn’t do to behave suspiciously — if she were innocent, the hero would expect her to welcome him in and cooperate with questioning, even if this was somewhat outside their normal mode of operations and she was well within her rights to refuse. She steeled herself and made short work of opening the window, watching him quietly as he slipped inside and dusted himself off.

No point in pleasantries. “I didn’t expect to see you, Chat Noir. Are you here to question me about my former employer? I thought you and Ladybug normally left that sort of thing to the police.”

The striking young man straightened quickly and gave her one of those Cheshire smiles that he probably thought were charming. “We do. But I have reason to believe you might be more inclined to share what you know with yours truly.”

 _Oh?_ “Bold of you to assume I know anything about it at all, Mr. Noir.” She resisted the urge to cross her arms and settled lightly onto the arm of the sofa instead, folding her jacket into her lap and fixing him with a neutral expression. “But I’m happy to entertain you. Would you care to sit?”

The Cat eyed her carefully but remained standing. “That’s okay, ma’am, I won’t be troubling you for long.” He crossed his own arms and leaned in, almost conspiratorially. “I am aware that Hawk Moth had plans for my Miraculous. Funny thing is, he and I never got around to talking about that in detail. Milady and I just assumed it was something cliché like world domination. Then the mask came off.” He paused, and for a moment his eyes glazed over. “I’m told this Gabriel Agreste lost his wife some years ago, that he hasn’t been the same since. And I’ve been thinking… What if he thought he could somehow use their power to bring her back?”

Nathalie stared at him, stunned. She knew what the cheeky young hero was doing — trying to trick her into feeling comfortable and revealing too much. But she hadn’t expected him to sound so… sympathetic, and genuinely so. Not only that, but he had somehow managed to stumble directly into the truth of the matter, though of course, she couldn’t confirm it. _What else does he know?_

“That sounds… plausible,” she said cautiously, after a moment of silence. “Grief and love can move people to do some outrageous things, after all. It wouldn’t excuse his actions, but perhaps it would explain them.”

Chat Noir’s gaze flickered back to her, and the raw emotion there startled her. “You’re right, Nathalie,” he said, almost in a whisper. And then for a moment, as they stared wordlessly at each other, Nathalie thought she saw something… _familiar_ in him. A sort of desperate intent she had seen too often in someone else’s very familiar eyes. And no sooner had she recognized it than he was upon her, gripping her arms with clawed fingers and shoving her back against the wall, his face only inches from hers, anguish now written plainly upon it. “But why didn’t he just _ask us_ for help?” he practically pleaded. “What aren’t you telling me? _What do you know?_ ”

“I know that you’re hiding something, yourself,” Nathalie answered boldly — or perhaps stupidly — eyes wide with panic as she attempted to muster the strength that had fled from her limbs with his unexpected assault. His face darkened further and his claws pierced the fabric of her turtleneck, pricking her skin. She whimpered despite herself as tears sprung up to cloud her vision, her voice rising in pitch as her feet left the carpet. “You’ve already ruined his plans, and here you are trying to bully information out some worthless bystander! What kind of hero are you, anyway?!”

At that, his grip abruptly loosened and he stepped back, mouth agape as she slid to the floor, his pupils blown wide. “Oh my God, you knew,” he whispered. “I didn’t want to believe it, but you _knew_ —” His eyes fell upon her hands as they gripped where his claws had caught her, and his face went ashen. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean —”

“ _Get out_ ,” she demanded. An unsettling warmth was seeping through the sleeves of her sweater. Oh, God. What was the boy thinking, coming here alone? “Get out, before I call the police.”

 ~~: **:**~~ { } ~~ **:** : ~~

_What were you thinking, kid?!_

It was Plagg’s voice, wailing at him reproachfully from somewhere in the back of his mind. _Which isn’t possible, of course,_ Chat Noir reminded himself distractedly as he leapt from roof to roof, making a beeline for the Eiffel Tower. The ice in his stomach had settled into a chill pool of bitter remorse after his interview with Nathalie. _Just my conscience reminding me what a piece of garbage I am. How could I have let myself hurt her?_

_… I can’t be like him._

But she knew.

Nathalie had known his father’s secret. And she hadn’t denied the likelihood of Chat Noir’s — Adrien’s — suggestion regarding his mother’s disappearance. Which left three possibilities: one, she was simply posturing in order to throw him off the scent, and there was some other reason entirely; two, his guess was as good as hers when it came to Hawk Moth’s motivations; or three, he was right, and his father really _was_ after the Miraculous because — because he thought they could be used to bring back the light that was missing from their lives.

_Mom._

A furious feline yowling burst into his conscious mind and almost broke his grip on the baton as he vaulted across the Seine, causing him to stumble as he landed atop the carousel that sat idle in front of the Tower. He caught himself before he fell from its roof and gripped the pole tightly, crouching down as the world spun around him.

That otherworldly sensation that normally accompanied his detransformation, a glittering maelstrom of green fire and electricity, prickled in his extremities. Chat Noir closed his eyes and clutched fiercely at his hair. “Not yet. _Not yet,_ ” he growled through grit teeth. Bile rose in his throat as the world continued to spin under his feet, sparks threatening to erupt. _What the hell, Plagg? You almost sent me into the river!_ **_NOT. YET._**

Abruptly the fire fled from his fingertips, and the scenery around him ceased to waver and jump, leaving Chat Noir staring wildly at the colorful roof beneath his boots. He took a deep, shaking breath, willing his body to calm after the unexpected flood of fear and adrenaline.

_Seriously, what the hell._

Dusk was settling over Paris, and Chat Noir’s eyes were drawn to the Eiffel Tower as its sparkling light display marked the hour. The dual beacons that shone from its summit flashed, illuminating a figure as it swung up to alight upon the upper platform. And despite the gloom that had taken up residence within him since their fateful fight with Hawk Moth, despite everything that had gone sour since, Chat Noir’s heart swelled at the sight of his Lady. His life may have been turned upside down, but she was still on his side.

Nothing could _ever_ change that.

 ~~: **:**~~ { } ~~ **:** : ~~

“Right on time as usual, milady.”

Ladybug spun on her feet, her smile suffused with warmth and relief as she watched her partner swing over the safety rail that surrounded the uppermost platform of the Tower. “I wouldn’t want to keep you waiting, Chat Noir. It’s good to see you. I know it’s only been a day, but…”

“It feels like an eternity,” he finished for her with a sigh. “I know.”

Ladybug fidgeted with her yo-yo and glanced at the view of the city below. “It hasn’t been easy, has it? Everyone in Paris is celebrating the defeat of Hawk Moth, but at the same time, both of us were familiar with his civilian self and… and with his son, Adrien. I just can’t believe everything that their family has been through. It’s so… heartbreaking.”

She squeaked as Chat Noir pulled her into an embrace. “You have the biggest heart in the world, milady,” he said softly, giving her a gentle squeeze. He pulled back to meet her eyes. “I hope you don’t feel guilty about exposing that monster. Trust me. This is definitely for the best.”

“I know, kitty,” Ladybug acknowledged with a quiet sigh. He started to withdraw politely, but she held onto him, leaning her forehead into his chest. He went rigid. Well, she didn’t blame him, given their history, but she needed to get this out.

“You’ve held me up since the very beginning, Chat Noir,” Ladybug began, speaking into his chest. She felt her face beginning to grow warm, and groaned inwardly, squeezing her eyes shut. Sure, she had never been very good at expressing her affection toward boys — well, toward Adrien, anyway — but it was still a little surprising that The Fluster™ would rear its ugly head for her most trusted friend. She took a deep breath to steady herself and continued with her eyes shut. “I m-mean, I would be dead a hundred times by now if you hadn’t been right there with me, throwing yourself b-between me and danger, risking your _life_ for me…”

She squeaked again as Chat Noir wrapped his arms around her tightly, his face pressing into her hair, sending a mildly pleasant tingle washing up the back of her neck. Her blush deepened and she shivered. Okay, yes, he was a boy — a man — and yes, they were emotionally very close, and yes, they were clinging to each other right now and she could breathe in that lovely muskiness that belonged only to him, but _geez, Ladybug, get a grip, he doesn’t see you that way anymore anyway_ — wait, what?

Words. He was saying words to her. “—eally ever doubt that I would do _anything_ for you? You’ll always be the most important woman in the world to me, Bugaboo,” he finished, pulling away to smile fondly at her. “And don’t worry, I know you feel the same about me,” he added with a playful wink.

She wanted to laugh like she usually did at his teasing behavior, push him away with a boop on the nose and a giggle, but tears pricked at her eyes and a small emotional sob rose from her throat instead, taking her partner by surprise. He rubbed her arms comfortingly, frowning at her in worry and confusion. “Hey, what’s the matter? Did I say something wrong?”

“No — no, of course not,” she sniffled, wiping her eyes with gloved fingers. “I just — you don’t know how much you mean to me, Chat Noir, and I can’t believe that this — that everything is going to change now.” She was fully fighting to keep the tears from flowing now. “I’m going to miss you so much!” she finished with a whimper, covering her eyes with one hand and shaking her head with a sad little laugh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go all emotional on you.”

She pulled her hand down over her mouth to find him staring at her, clearly confused. “What do you mean, you’re gonna miss me?” he echoed hesitantly, breaking free of their embrace. “Just because Hawk Moth is — no, geez Bugaboo, it’s not like our jobs are over. Paris will always need its superheroes, right?”

Ladybug blinked at him. _Well duh, Marinette. You sound totally random_ , she chided herself. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing away the tears. “Sorry. I’ve gotten way ahead of myself.” She settled down to lean against the iron wall and patted the floor in invitation. “Sit. We have things to discuss.”

Something seemed to register and he flopped down next to her with a familiarly grim expression. “Right, you saw Master Fu last night. Let me guess — he’s made some very wise and annoying executive decisions for us again, hasn’t he?”

She winced at the sourness in his voice. “Well, you’re not wrong. He said that since Hawk Moth has been brought down, Ladybug and Chat Noir should sort of disappear into the woodwork and allow Paris’ police force to become self-reliant again; that it wouldn’t be good for us or the city otherwise. That this is the way it always is when the major threat has been eliminated. I guess it makes sense, but…” She felt the lump rising in her throat again.

“So — wait. A-are you saying this is it, then?” Chat Noir asked incredulously. She started to deny it but he just plowed straight on, gesticulating wildly. “Fu expects us to sacrifice our lives for this shit _he caused_ and then give up our Miraculous like nothing ever happened? I have to lose two of my best friends in the _world_ on top of _everything else_?!”

“No!” Ladybug practically shouted over him, waving her hands for emphasis. “It’s not like that at all. No. Master Fu knows how close we are to our kwami. The Miraculous stay with us.” She swallowed. “But—”

“— but _we_ have to say goodbye now?”

“ _No._ No.” She took a deep breath and took his hands in hers, looking him in the eye sadly. “But if we’re staying out of the public eye, that means we’ll have to phase out our presence on the street, stop interfering with business that the police should be able to handle on their own. Once the defeat of Hawk Moth has settled in and people have begun to move on with their lives, we won’t need to continue our patrols. Which naturally means… seeing a lot less of each other.”

Chat Noir regarded her blankly and turned away, balling up his fists. “That’s horseshit,” he muttered quietly. Then just as suddenly he whirled, a look of utter enlightenment painted on his face. “Oh my god, Ladybug. Hawk Moth has been defeated.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Y-eah…”

He grabbed both of her hands in his, raising them up to his chest in excitement. “Don’t you see? The danger is gone. Not even Master Fu would insist that we keep our identities a secret now.” His face lit up like a Christmas tree. “God, Bugaboo, we can see each other every day if we want to. And I can finally get to know the other side of you!”

Ladybug wilted. “I’m sorry, Chaton. It’s not that simple. Master Fu believes that since Duusu is still missing, the likelihood that we will be called to action again is still very high. And if we are…” Her heart broke at the look of shattering defeat in his eyes. “…we’ll need to remain anonymous,” she finished lamely.

“Of _course_ , we will,” he answered flatly, slumping back against the wall. “Shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. Like I could _be_ so lucky.”

“We can still meet up now and then if we’re discreet about it,” Ladybug ventured. “Also…”  She fished about in the bag she had brought with her, pulling out a pair of prepaid flip phones. She held one out to him. “I got us these to communicate with. Master Fu agreed it should be safe. As long as we’re as careful, and don’t discuss our lives as superheroes over the network, we can stay in touch. You can even bother me every day, if you want.” She grinned at him.

For a moment Chat Noir just stared in silence at the gift in her hand. Then he was pulling her into another embrace, burrowing his face into her neck. “I’ll miss this,” he said fervently, voice muffled against her skin, full of sadness and relief. “You have no idea how much I’m gonna miss this. But goddamnit Ladybug, don’t scare me like that. I’m pretty sure I’d turn to dust without you.”

 ~~: **:**~~ { } ~~ **:** : ~~

 _Damnit,_ Chat Noir swore to himself, jiggling the lever on the balcony door. Housekeeping must have come along and locked it before moving on. And of _course_ he, the very clever superhero, had left his hotel keycard sitting there on the nightstand, along with his wallet and keys and Chloe’s empty bottle of Merlot.

He could detransform and ask for help at the front desk, but he really wasn’t in the mood to deal with more dirty looks from staff who apparently thought having a supervillain for a father was a cardinal sin. _Nope. What better way to spend my evil dad’s evil money?_ “Cataclysm,” he muttered, sticking his claw into the lock and watching with some satisfaction as the mechanism crumbled into dust and poured from the opening.

… Of course, now that he thought about it, the hotel probably wouldn’t even dream of accepting reimbursement for an old rusted out lock that had finally given way. _Ahhh… shoot._

Oh, well. That was a problem for Future Adrien.

The room was dark, save for a night light that illuminated the short distance from the bed to the bathroom. He collapsed upon the mattress, idly considering how long he could put off reviewing the day’s events. He really didn’t have the strength to obsess over everything that had gone sour that day. So he stared at the ceiling instead, remembering the way Ladybug had felt in his arms as they clung to each other atop the Tower, how lovely she had smelled, the caring look in her beautiful blue eyes as she gazed into his…

The timer on his ring beeped. Three minutes left.

“I guess I should let you out, Plagg,” he said aloud. _Claws in._

His transformation fell away in a flash of green, leaving him lying in his pajama bottoms and nothing else. Another reason to avoid the front desk. Oh, the day he’d had.

Plagg tumbled from the ring, but rather than flopping next to Adrien and demanding cheese as he usually did, he caught himself mid-air and confronted the tired hero with a look of apoplectic rage.

“Hey, Plagg.”

“‘Hey?!’ ‘ _Hey?!_ ’ Listen, kid, I don’t know what you think we’re on about here, but _drawing blood from the veins of innocents_ really ain’t on the to-do list, know what I mean?!”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I was stupid, Plagg. I was still buzzed and I lost control. I’m sorry.” Adrien turned over onto his side, looking pointedly away.

“And I’m supposed to say, ‘Oh everything’s fine then, go about your business,’ is that it?” Plagg retorted, interposing himself in his partner’s line of vision again.

Adrien sat up and glared down at him. “If you’d really like to get into it, Plagg, why not tell me what _you_ were thinking when you tried to throw me into the drink? Not exactly what I’d call heroic, either, _know what I mean?_ ”

Plagg’s ears flattened atop his head, and he fixed Adrien with an inscrutable expression. “You’re not making a lot of sense, kid,” he said after a moment, crossing his arms.

Adrien balked. “You’re lying. I sure as hell didn’t imagine almost losing my transformation there in the middle of the street.” Plagg made no comment, beginning to fluff the pillow he had settled down upon. “You _listened_ to me when I told you to knock it off!"

Plagg eyed him askance, continuing to knock the stuffing out of his makeshift bed. “It’s true that some Black Cats have more trouble maintaining their transformation than others. And you’ve had a stressful 24 hours, to put it lightly.” He gave the pillow one final thwack and turned to face Adrien with a smile, as if they hadn’t just been screaming at each other. “Don’t worry. Nothing that a little rest and a good meal in the morning won’t fix. Uh, speaking of…”

Adrien stared at him, then down at his hands. No. He hadn’t imagined Plagg’s silent reprimand as he’d made his way to the Eiffel Tower, that terrible catlike screeching in his mind as he leapt over the Seine. Why would Plagg try to deny it? “Plagg,” he said in a level tone, leaning closer to his kwami, face neutral. “Tell me the truth. _Did you try to break my transformation today?_ ”

Plagg’s ears went flat again, and for an agonizing minute his eyes looked everywhere but toward Adrien, darting from place to place as if searching for something. “Yes,” he finally whispered, casting a furtive glance at his chosen one.

Adrien was shocked. His kwami had kept things from him before, that was nothing new, but Adrien couldn’t remember him ever lying to his face. And then to admit it, just like that? “So you _lied_ to me a moment ago?”

Silence.

“ _Plagg?_ ”

“Not technically,” Plagg answered quietly. “I _wasn’t_ trying to throw you in the river. And some of my kittens really have had trouble with their transformations in the past.”

“So you… kept the truth from me, without telling any lies.”

“That’s right, and I’ve never felt like a bigger failure, so can we please forget about it? I really am _totally_ starving. You used Cataclysm, remember? Honestly, I’ll be acting all sorts of strange if I can’t get a little something in my stomach here!”

“Pft, you _are_ a stomach,” Adrien remarked dryly, pushing off the bed to shuffle toward the kitchen, where he had remembered to stash some provisions for his partner. He pulled a wheel of Camembert from the cupboard.

He was halfway back to the bed when it hit him.

Plagg had blithely feigned ignorance about the Seine incident, dissembling like a wizard. And when Adrien wasn’t convinced and called him out on it, he had then somehow managed to both confess _and_ shift the blame and the conversation onto his stomach, all in mere seconds. And Adrien had nearly just followed along with it.

He stopped by the bed and held the cheese out to Plagg. “Here.”

Plagg retrieved the offering happily, ripping the box open mid-air, and immediately set to on the contents.

“Is it a good one?”

“What are you, nuts? They’re all good ones.”

“Great. Now tell me about all the other times you’ve kept the truth from me without technically telling lies.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cheese splats on the floor* Ruh-roh.
> 
> Howdy y’all! :) A little clarity on some of the undisclosed events in this chapter (since my husband automatically jumped to all the wrong conclusions at the mention of Chloe and wine): When Adrien went to get a room at the Mayor's hotel, Chloe went with him. Her father tried to turn him away like a total asshat (can’t have “that sort of person” staying at his fine luxury hotel, after all), she pitched a fit, got Adrien a room, ordered them wine while he got settled in, and commiserated with him all afternoon about how much fathers suck. They got a little drunk and said goodnight when he remembered he had things to do that evening. Yup, turns out he was a little under the influence when he went to visit Nathalie. Don’t drink and interrogate, kids!


End file.
